


Support group

by ovely



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Love Confession, M/M, Reality, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ovely/pseuds/ovely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Phil/29/London</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i><3</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Support group

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comment that comes up on _every_ ISG video.
> 
> Content warnings: alcohol, excessive swearing.
> 
> [Please read the mathematical disclaimer if you're into that.](http://licornoz.livejournal.com/758.html) / [I now have a phan tumblr!](http://danservice.tumblr.com)

There had been a point when Dan started to give serious advice on Internet Support Group, rather than just using it as yet another opportunity to refine his skills in sarcasm. Dan wasn’t sure exactly when this had happened, although he suspected it was connected with a certain few facts: he now had several thousand new subscribers every day, the inbox of dangivesadvice@gmail.com had reached a point where it regularly required emptying, and, having begun to receive messages from kids as young as ten— _ten_ —he was beginning to feel that his position as internet cult leader was starting to require behaviour a little more like a “proper” role model. Consequently, Internet Support Group had ceased to be a fun Dan thing and become one of those recurrent “pleasing the fans” jobs, like the Super Amazing Project and the radio phone-ins. Still, it was entertaining enough, even if trawling through thousands of teenage girls’ messages about their problems tended to make his own seem somewhat acuter. One day, it would inevitably go the same way as the sexy end-screen dance, but for now, it had life in it yet.

As time-consuming as it had become, Dan still made sure to read every message sent to Internet Support Group, fitting in a few here and there when he had the chance. And so it happened that one Thursday evening, when Phil was away visiting his family in Manchester, Dan found himself lying on the sofa crease with all the lights on, drinking a large glass of wine—that part of the videos was based on fact—and reading the following message.

_Hey Dan,_

_It would be great if you could help me. I have this friend that I had a short but really amazing relationship with a few years ago, but we broke up for various reasons and decided we should just be best friends. We stayed flatmates and we’ve actually lived together nearly 5 years now. We have a really great friendship, but recently I’ve been thinking it would be nice to have something more again. Loads of people think we’re into each other romantically, and I’ve noticed him sort of acting as if he still has feelings for me recently. We’ve both matured a lot over the last few years, and this seems like a good time to ask him if he wants to try being in a relationship again. What do you think? Am I crazy?_

Dan took a gulp of wine. God, it was one of the “deep” ones. Well, there was a place for it in the next video, if he edited it down a bit, and if he actually thought of something fairly sensible to say in reply. He considered. The girl did sound a bit crazy for being potentially about to ruin her friendship with her flatmate. But five years was a long time, and if he was dropping hints about liking her, perhaps she should make a move. And the two of them had ended their relationship on uncommonly good terms, so if this went badly it probably wouldn’t sabotage it too much. Yeah, she ought to go for it, he supposed.

Dan made to move the email into the “poss vid” folder, and then noticed the sender’s details appended to the bottom of the message.

_Phil/29/London_

_< 3_

He slammed his hand down into the sofa cushions, a little drunkenly. Bloody hell, fucking fangirls. Phucking _phangirls_. Really? Had somebody actually done that? Some thirteen-year-old high on sweets in her dad’s office at 5 pm? He had this sort of thing all the time, but this one was kind of annoying for the sheer reason that he’d actually fallen for it for a while and wasted a couple of minutes of his life on this. Phil was usually the one who reminded him that their fanbase was the reason he got to spend 80% of his life sitting around playing video games for money, and as Phil’s role happened to be being played by three-quarters of a bottle of wine on this particular occasion, he wasn’t feeling at his most charitable.

He let himself cast his eyes over the message again. Yes—classic—how could he have missed this? She’d even made it sound like Phil, with an impressive level of success. He read through the email again in Phil’s voice. Yeah. Quite a convincing parody. He’d show it to Phil once he got back from Manchester, it would give him a good laugh.

As it happened, Dan entirely forgot about showing the email to Phil, who arrived home the next evening giddy with excitement about his cousin’s new baby. After half an hour of baby photos, Dan conceded that it did look quite cute from certain angles, although he suspected Phil’s enthusiasm was making him enjoy this secondhand more than he would have done in the actual event. As always when he’d visited family, Phil took a little time to slip out of his northern accent, which was also kind of cute when Dan thought about it. Not that he did think about it much, of course.

The message therefore slipped out of Dan’s mind entirely, and it was only when he was doing the final check of Internet Support Group emails as he sat down to write the script for the video that he noticed it again. Oh yes, that hilarious joke, continued trolling by the phan squad. _Phil/29/London_. As if.

As Dan sipped his vodka and tonic—Phil was out again—he began to consider his response. He had been about to delete the email, but now wondered whether he should react differently. Beat them at their own game. For the last couple of years his online persona had deliberately been Cool With Phan, the multifaceted shitstorm of 2012 having eventually made him reconsider his attitude towards his viewers’ insistence on his and Phil’s relationship. If he called out the message in the video, he would achieve two things: firstly, he would convince them that the whole thing was such a non-event that he was perfectly OK with referring to it casually, which, to be honest, was true. Secondly, he’d beat them at their own game. Troll them back. That would surely give the impression he aimed for these days, that of “Phan isn’t a thing and I don’t give a shit”. And with any luck, it would be another nail in the coffin of the whole thing. If he was honest with himself, he still wasn’t entirely sure he would put it in the video, but he could at least film it and decide when the time came.

A couple of days later, Dan was partway through filming the next instalment of Internet Support Group. Having addressed a fairly random selection of problems relating to tensions in friendships and the odd behaviour of pet guinea pigs, he was ready to move on to the final message. He read it out.

“... and this seems like a good time to ask him if he wants to try being in a relationship again.” Dan recited. “What do you think? Am I crazy?” He paused slightly and levelled his gaze with the camera. “ _Well_ …” he continued slowly, “you know, I wouldn’t say you’re _crazy_. Actually, I say go for it. If you think the time is right, you should totally tell your flatmate how you feel—what was your name again? Oh.” He let his eyes drift back to the computer briefly. “ _Phil_. Phil, twenty-nine, London.”

Dan returned his gaze unflinchingly to the camera lens. “Really, guys?” he said. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” said a quiet voice from the doorway.

Dan had played a lot of questionable video games in his time, but no jump scare had ever truly been this terrifying. He turned slowly to face the landing, where Phil stood, pale and hesitant like some tall ghost, clutching a cup of coffee to his chest with both hands.

“ _Seriously_ , Dan,” Phil said again. He had a strange, unplaceable look on his face.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Dan, and turned straight back to the camera to turn it off, because whatever the fuck this was, it was not going on the internet, it was not going on his hard drive, it was not getting past that lens.

“I sent that,” Phil said.

Dan said nothing.

“I thought it would be cute,” Phil said.

Phil had a history of doing things for Dan because he thought they would be cute. Sometimes they were cute. Sometimes they went horribly wrong and led to huge fuckups and angry tumblr answers and copyright takedown notices and other things that Were Not Talked About. Sometimes something turned sour and you had to be “just friends” for four years. Flatmates. Fucking _best friends_.

“Look,” said Phil, “we messed up, before, but it’s like, it’s been a while now, hasn’t it? We can do this now. I mean, if you want to, and if you don’t, then, that’s fine, we’re still best friends.”

“Are you _fucking_ serious?” Dan shouted. “You sent me a fucking _email_ —to Internet Support Group—” he gesticulated wildly towards the computer screen.

“Yeah, well, I thought you could ignore it if you wanted—you know, I wouldn’t _mind_ if you didn’t want that—well, I would mind, but—” Phil’s normally pale face had gained a reddish tinge. “Just—I dunno, think about it or something. Cos I want to give it a try again, if I haven’t messed it up too much.”

Dan was lost for words. “Seriously,” he said eventually. Flatly.

“Seriously,” Phil repeated.

And then something began to rise up in Dan: he took it at first for anger, or affection, or something else he had been trying to suppress these past few years, but then found himself laughing, bending forwards as his body convulsed with giggles, clutching his stomach as his shoulders shook, and finally managed to splutter, “Maybe—maybe _seriously_ will be our _always_ —”

As Phil’s deeper laugh joined Dan’s, Dan realised the resulting chorus was intensely familiar. This was where he was safe. Whatever this was, they would find a way through it, friends or lovers; it didn’t matter. Never mind that, they were Dan and Phil.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry the last sentence was cheesy af


End file.
